Nearness

At our last home, on the side of a hill

the banter of neighbors was sometimes heard

yet dialogues were ever obscured

in mostly muffled, faraway words

Life’s so incredibly different here

in our small Salento town

where mostly open, shuttered doors

carry inside noises out

i’m an accidental eavesdropper

an undercover side-taker

unwittingly impacted

by next-door behaviour

hearing radios and tvs

and whistling when they’re pleased

hearing sobbing, hearing coughing

fret when angry, smile when laughing

happy medleys and cadenced words

a thundering thought, a mournful dirge

conveyed down narrow, cobbled streets

where public and private publicly meet

unwittingly entangled

emotionally ensnared

caught in the middle by an empathetic ear

learning to decipher our new life here

all the strong Italian voices

like a never ending opus

is how each day now greets us

amuses and entreats us

i hear the cafes open up

and people gather round

cafe bottles being rattled

day’s end shutters coming down

i hear dishes being done

and laundry being hung

i hear babies weep for mother

doggies barking at each other

there’s Magda, the parrot, in the center of town

the outdoor mass droning on and on

high heels click-clacking along the street

the town’s eery silence in the mid-day heat

i listen to people returning at night

parents and teens in ubiquitous fights

church bells and car horns, vendors in trucks

scooters and Api and loud motor bikes

i listen to people outside on their phones

as signals are zero inside their old homes

local curmudgeons talk sweet to the strays

old men with walkers bemoan better days

frequent fireworks, far too loud

are also now familiar sounds

though i prefer the young rapper below

filling the air with hip-hop flow

At first, the sounds unsettled me

hearing others’ lives weighed heavily

being covetous of my privacy

the introvert tried to take hold of me

yet I adapt as the weeks depart

the town’s special rhythm now beats in my heart

I’m comforted by a familiar voice

cheered by streets full of music and noise

i like to hear the telephones ring

i love to hear my neighbors’ sing

even the Tom cats’ pre-dawn brawls

seem to offer solace now

the more I listen every day

the strangeness of nearness gets further away

the closer i am and feel i belong

to Castrignano’s close-knit song

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Author: Anne Celano Frohna

I have been writing for as long as I could hold a pencil in hand and would not feel complete without it. And I actually made a meager living at it (and as an editor) for 25 years. I worked for newspapers and magazines, in graphic arts and advertising, and wrote several local history books. But I have also taught English in Japan, been a Nanny/family chef in Italy, worked in and for museums, was an Airbnb Superhost for four years, as well as an Etsy shop owner, where I sold vintage items I found over the years at thrift stores and yard sales. After moving to Arizona with my family in 2010, I completed a series of different writing projects, including two books of creative non-fiction: Just West of the Midwest: a comedy (Based on journals I kept during my two years as an English teacher in rural Japan.) Within Close Range: short stories of an American Childhood (Short stories and poems about growing up as the middle of five children in suburban Chicago.) But in the past few years, I have found my voice in poetry. I am a mother of two wonderful girls, Eva (26) and Sophia (24) and wife to one wonderful husband, Kurt. In 2023, with our girls grown and off on their own, my husband and I packed up our things and moved to the tip of Italy’s heel, to the Salento region, where I continue to work on my poetry, as well as a new fiction project, and indulge in my passion for mosaics - all of which you can view on my Instagram page @ acfrohna.